


the overstay

by fictionsofthemind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Trapped together trope, anti-Bobby B as a plot device, minor throbb!!, modern Stormlands vibes, other Starks to come, quarantine sort of, social distancing, what's a beta, yes it's a coronavirus fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionsofthemind/pseuds/fictionsofthemind
Summary: Arya travels to Storm's End for the weekend to help Gendry sort out his (estranged and recently-late) father's estate, but is trapped indefinitely when a viral outbreak hits King's Landing.Basically, a coronavirus/social distancing AU about the only two people in the world that matter.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 176
Kudos: 332





	1. settle up

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I really did write this because all I can think about is the virus/quarantines/social distancing. This came to me in a strictly non-fevered daydream. Hopefully this cheers you up if you're stuck inside somewhere.

Robert Baratheon was dead. 

He had been dead for a whole month, actually. The cause was ambiguous - everyone and their mother knew the man had a drinking problem and a slew of other ailments that grew from it. In the end he got sick, Arya was pretty sure, and passed on from this world in one of his many vacation homes, this one on an island off the coast of Dorne. Her dad had gone to the funeral. Arya hadn’t. Neither had Gendry. 

It surprised no one that Gendry didn’t go to his father’s funeral. He barely knew him, and Robert did little for him in life that would warrant his attendance. In death, however, he revealed a change of heart. Or a change of plans, at least, which is why Arya found herself nestling into the window seat of a train, backpack tucked beneath the seat, bound for Storm’s End. 

King’s Landing was only a few hours train ride to the Stormlands, which boasted some of Westeros’ most brooding terrains and craggy coastlines. She had been only once when she was nine to accompany her father on business to Robert’s estate - the very same to which she was currently en route. She sent Gendry a text when she was less than an hour away. 

She regretted that she hadn’t seen Gendry, her closest and most important friend, for over three months. Work pulled her between Kings Landing and Essos frequently, and when she wasn’t drowning in edits and interviews she would visit Ned in Dorne, although not anymore. She pulled the plug on that relationship a solid six weeks ago to the betterment of all involved parties. Regardless, she probably accumulated enough frequent flyer miles to travel to the moon. To her dismay, it turned her into a rather absent friend. 

Gendry said he didn’t mind, but of course he would say that. They spoke around the time of Robert’s funeral and made half-empty promises to see one another more often, not knowing when that kind of time could truly be made. So when Gendry called to vent about the stress of being left in charge of sorting Robert Baratheon’s finances, properties, and general estate, Arya offered herself up for the weekend. 

As the train rolled eastward toward the coast, the view of the lush and forested hillsides shrouded with fog and Arya could begin to discern the outline of buildings through the haze. They slowed steadily to a crawl as the archways of the station came into view and Arya felt a jolt of excitement to reunite with her friend. She smiled as she donned her parka and slid her arms through the straps of her bag. 

She disembarked and walked the length of the train to the turnstiles. She spotted him before he saw her as she was small enough the be obscured by the crowds. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his fleece pullover, sporting a fiercely concentrated look as if he intended to pierce through the wall of people with his gaze. But then he saw her and his expression melted into a grin. 

Arya fed her ticket into the turnstile, pushed past the threshold, and made no more than five steps into Gendry’s arms, which encircled her immediately. 

“Hi,” she greeted him cheerfully from against his chest. He pulled away to look at her. 

“Hello, Stranger.” He smiled with his lips pressed together and his eyes roamed over her briefly. “Your hair is longer,” he observed. 

“So is yours.” She reached up to playfully tug on a dark lock. 

“Need me to carry anything?” 

“Nah, I just have this,” she gestured to her backpack. “It’s just a couple nights, no need to overpack.” Gendry led her toward the exit.

“Thank you for coming. You’re a lifesaver.” He sounded quite relieved. 

“I don’t know if I’ll actually be much help but I can at least stop you from drowning yourself in the bay.”

“That might actually be necessary. I’m just over here.” He pointed to his car parked along the curb. “I’ve been dealing with lawyers and uncles and I’ve had to Google so many different legal terms the last few days that I’m about ready to run off the cliff.” 

Arya chuckled and got into the passenger side of the car. “Gods, I’m so sorry. It really does sound like a mess.” 

“Robert was a messy man,” he agreed, buckling himself in. “It feels like he’s shitting on me even more from the afterlife.” 

Gendry ran a hand through his hair and then put it on the back of Arya’s seat to reverse out of his parking spot. 

Arya shook her head. “And here I was thinking the one thing he committed to in life was not being your father. Turns out he couldn’t even commit to that.” 

“I mean, it is like getting backpay in child support multiplied by…a number that is so high I don’t even want to think about it.” He rolled his eyes. He did seem a little worked up, Arya noted. “At least once a day this week I’ve looked around his house like I’m going to find hidden cameras and find out this is all some elaborate prank.” 

She laughed with him. “I’ll help you look once we get there. I bet the Baratheon estate has loads of secrets stowed away in its liquor cabinets.” 

“That would make all of this so much more interesting,” he lamented. “Seriously, thank you for coming. You really didn’t have to and I know it’s far from how you probably want to spend your weekend.” He shot her a grateful look as he drove through the old part of town. 

“Gendry, I…don’t even worry about it. I’m happy to help and I fucking miss you, it’s been ages, and I’m sorry about that.” She glanced over and caught those bright blue eyes, feeling even more guilty for allowing herself to forget how much she liked spending time with him. “Jon says the amount I work should be illegal, so…” she trailed off, unsure of how to justify her decisions. 

Gendry merely shrugged. “It’s okay, life happens.” Arya nodded in agreement. “Besides, you’re here now, and it won’t be all bad. Once the lawyers leave for the day we can drink from Robert’s extremely posh scotch collection,” he suggested. 

“Oh yeah, that’s secretly why I’m here. Just so we’re clear. It’s not to help you or hang out with you. I am in this for the free booze, man.” She clapped her hands together for emphasis.

He put a hand to his heart, feigning emotion. “Ah, you remind me of my father,” he said whimsically. Arya leaned over to wipe an imaginary tear from his cheek and they dissolved into laughter. 

It was mid afternoon when they arrived at Robert Baratheon’s manor. It was sort of a gothic building with lots of pointy edges and tall windows. It was darker than Arya remembered and well-shrouded by overgrown trees and bushes that thrived in the humidity of the Stormlands. The home resided on the same grounds as the historic castle owned by the Baratheon family's ancestors during feudal times, which was set several acres away closer to the cliffside and was visible from where they drove in. Arya vaguely remembered touring it as a child. 

She stepped out of the car and the salt and earth filled her nostrils. It was a good smell, fresh and damp at the same time. There were a few other cars in the long driveway, she noticed as she followed Gendry into the house. 

In the foyer Gendry was immediately accosted by an austere bald man in a suit. 

“Mr. Waters, we have discovered some documents while you were…” he glanced over Arya, “out. If you would please come with me to review them.” 

Gendry sighed. It was a defeated sort of sound. “Of course.” He gave Arya an apologetic look. “I’ll be back in a bit. Make yourself at home.” 

When the suit wasn’t looking she gave him a sarcastically solemn nod and a salut. He rolled his eyes and followed the suit down a hallway. 

Arya took in the grandiose entryway. The grand stairway was meant to be the most eye-catching part of the room - the centerpiece. It curved elegantly and steeply up behind a series of pointed archways and disappeared onto the second floor. Her eyes wandered over the stonework that lined the walls and wrapped around the room. It looked like it had been more recently done, but she wasn’t sure. The side tables and chairs were all furnished wood, a material that didn’t often thrive in this humid environment, but it looked nice all the same. The hallway Gendry disappeared down was wallpapered in a deep maroonish pattern. She found it all to be rather pleasing, to her surprise. This house didn’t feel like a place where Robert Baratheon would live. 

She hung her coat and bag by the door and let her curiosity carry her deeper inside. She found an office, a library, a handful of bedrooms, some living spaces and most importantly the kitchen, which faced the east and overlooked the castle through slotted windows from the bottom floor. She ran her fingers along the marble countertops. A few dishes in the sink and a bowl full of fresh fruits marked signs of life. 

She made it all the way to the edge of the garden before Gendry found her. He came upon her casually weeding an unattended flower bed. It was clear that Robert had neglected the shrubbery in addition to neglecting to organize his estate. Everything had grown a bit wild. 

“Sorry about that,” he sighed as he came closer. He gestured vaguely behind him. “That was Penrose. One of my new best friends.” His sarcasm was a specially cultivated kind of bitter that she found impressive. 

“No worries, I gave myself a tour.” 

“And you’ve appointed yourself groundskeeper?” He gestured to the pile of uprooted weeds at her feet. 

She pondered this. “Wouldn’t be so bad of a job.” She smiled at him and he had a sort of gentle look on his face. He looked tired. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded fervently and toed the weeds. “It’s just exhausting to…pretend to give a shit?” He looked at her for validation. 

“I know _all_ about that. I pretend to give a shit for a living. Put me to work, Waters.” She cocked her head towards the house. 

“Have I mentioned you’re the best?” 

Gendry gave her a tour of the mess that was Robert’s paper trail. He hadn’t paid taxes in a few years, which was easy enough to pay off and still have enough money to feed a major metropolitan city. The grueling work of sorting through all the documents for all his properties and business ventures was the part that was grinding Gendry into the ground. As annoyed as he was by the all the lawyers and whatnot, there were apparently some accountants that had also filtered through the Baratheon home over the last few weeks and had helped with some of the bureaucratic heavy lifting. Gendry was still responsible for reviewing and signing off on everything, however. Arya volunteered to take a shift squinting at the numbers on Gendry’s laptop so that he could review a compiled list of Robert’s stock shares. They were both in a bit over their heads, and these were strange waters to tread in when neither of them particularly cared about how any of this got settled. 

“Why can’t your uncles take care of all this bullshit?” she asked a few hours later, Braavosi takeout boxes strewn between them on the kitchen counter. The lawyers had left for the day and Arya could see Gendry visible relax when they did. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” came his grumpy reply. “Robert specifically mandated that Stannis and Renly don’t get to decide what goes where and to who. Sounds like they all had some personal issues that I don’t know nor care about.” 

“They must be angry, yeah?” She shoveled some more noodles onto her plate.

“Yeah, some of these lawyers are theirs. Like Penrose, he was hired by Renly. Stannis has a few consultants that have been in and out, too. Thankfully neither of them have turned up themselves to fight about stuff. But I’m not withholding much from them, either. They can have have as many of the vacation homes and whatnot as they want. I don’t need to vacation anywhere that has a stripper pole and a mirror platform in the bedroom.” 

Arya gaped. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but oh my god, Robert.” 

Gendry clicked around on his laptop and spun it to show her the screen. Sure enough, the real estate photo matched the description. She snorted and then covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t laugh.” 

He shook his head. “That’s not even the punchline, Arya. He _died_ in this house.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Would I joke about this?” 

“Maybe?” 

“I would, but I’m not.” 

Arya bit back a laugh and put her head down in her arms, flat on the table. “Gendry…how is it possible you’re related to this man?” Her voice was muffled. 

“I ask myself that everyday.” She was afraid she struck a nerve but when she looked up at him his eyes were full of mirth. He closed the laptop and brushed some stray papers to the side. “I haven’t even asked you how you are. How are you?” 

“I’m good, things are good,” she nodded slowly and held his attentive gaze. “Busy. Work has been busy, obviously.” 

“Oh yes, I’m having dinner with the most coveted journalist in King’s Landing.” 

She rolled her eyes. “That’s hardly true.”

“Do you like it, though?”

“Sometimes, yeah. I don’t know, I honestly think I should like it more. I thought I would like it more, of course, that’s why I’m doing it, you know? I like writing, I like the political piece of it, and I like travel, but not so much that I’m never in one place for very long, which is what has been happening for a while now.” She fixated on the table between them as she thought about it. “I like a challenge, obviously, and it’s challenging. But sometimes…I realize I’m just writing what other people tell me to write. ‘This ambassador said _this_ and this trade law did or didn’t pass,’ and so on,” she paused to look at Gendry again, who looked at her with sympathy. “There’s just not necessarily any heart in it,” she summarized, stretching out her arms. 

“Plus they’re sending you all over the place every week,” Gendry supplemented. 

“Right, so between that, trying to visit family, trying to visit Ned, and also maintain some sort of home for myself, I’ve been stretched rather thin.” 

Gendry gave his attention to the food again. “How is Ned?” he asked the noodles. 

The question was a bit strange. “Uh, fine, I think?” 

“You think?” 

“Well, I haven’t spoken to him in a while.” 

Gendry looked up at her again. “You haven’t?”

The realization came to her. “Oh shit, did I not tell you?” 

“Tell me what?”

“I broke up with Ned weeks ago. Did I forget to tell you?” 

Gendry blanked. “Yes? Apparently. What happened?” 

“Fuck, sorry. I thought I told you. It’s honestly not a big deal.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, gods. Are you doing alright?” He reached for the bottle of scotch they had been waiting to open up and filled the bottom of her glass.

“I am, I really am. Don’t worry about me.” She wasn’t sure how to explain that she broke up with Ned because their relationship was simply bland and made her feel nothing even close to resembling love. “It was just…we had no reason to keep being together. I just…” she trailed off and sipped from the glass, the warm liquid calming her as it trickled behind her ribcage. “I just didn’t love him,” she explained. 

Gendry slowly poured a glass for himself. “So he wasn’t The One?” He was smirking at her. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Gods no, who are you, my mother?” 

He snickered. “Sorry.” 

“No, he was not The One, Gendry. Obviously.” She laughed in spite of herself and raised her glass. “Cheers to that, I guess.” 

“Cheers.” They drained their glasses and Arya pushed away any thoughts of fate.

Gendry showed her to the bedroom where she would be staying. It was directly across the hall from his room and they had to climb the grand stairway to get there. The room was unnecessarily ornate, but Gendry swore that they all looked like that and he wasn’t trying to give her special treatment. The four poster bed was made up in linens that looked like they were from this century and the tall, narrow windows looked to the South over the exposed hillside that crept toward the forest. There was even a large fireplace, which looked like it hadn't seen use in a while. After Gendry said goodnight, she cracked the window to let in the salted breeze and changed into some sleeping clothes. This corner of Storm’s End was quiet and she noticed with interest that she felt strangely at peace for someone who let work overrun her life. She wracked her brain as she lay in bed, trying to remember the last time she felt this way, but she fell into a dreamless sleep before she located an answer. 

The morning found her stationing in the kitchen once more. She liked its light and open air much better than the dining area, which was more tucked away and stuffy by comparison. She woke early and pattered downstairs to brew coffee and check her email while Gendry slept. She already had over a hundred unread, but they were mostly press debriefings and follow-ups and other things that could wait.She didn’t open most of them, only forwarding a few things to Jaqen. Sansa had texted her asking if she had got into Storm’s End alright. The Starks were planning a small family reunion next weekend so Arya would be making her way to Winterfell in only a few days. Most of the family was already there according to Bran’s Instagram story, which showcased several of the Starks drinking Northern lagers around an impressive bonfire in the yard. 

She got a head start on the day’s work in hopes that it would ease some of Gendry’s stress. When he did get up she had already sorted through a stack of appraisals they had left on the counter last night. Gendry looked appalled that she was already working. 

“You really didn’t have to start without me.” He sounded apologetic. 

“I know that, silly. I wanted to do it.” She rolled her eyes. 

He cocked his head at her. “Thank you, that’s very kind.” 

“There’s coffee in the pot,” she replied. 

Gendry went to work on his laptop and Arya made a list of everything he would need to get done, prioritizing according to what Gendry said was time sensitive. Neither of them knew much of what they were doing, but she supposed she was there for emotional support just as much as lending a hand with the actual tasks. 

It was midmorning when Gendry stopped abruptly and looked up at her, puzzled.

“Penrose is usually here by now…not that I’m complaining, I honestly hope he doesn’t show, but I doubt it.” He got up to grab his phone on the other side of the countertop and his brow furrowed. 

“What is it?” 

“Missed calls and texts from him. Wait, what…” he trailed off and became focused on his phone. Arya opened her mouth to ask questions but her own phone buzzed on the table. Sansa was calling. She pressed accept. 

“Hey Sans,” she was still eyeing Gendry. 

“Arya, where are you?” Sansa sounded weirdly keyed up but that wasn’t totally abnormal on any given morning. 

“I’m in Storm’s End with Gendry like I said, what’s up?” 

“Have you checked the news or anything this morning?” 

“Ehm, no, not yet. Why?” 

But before Sansa could answer Gendry was already holding up his phone to her with a news headline glaring at her in bold face type: **Viral outbreak arrives in King’s Landing, all Westerosi cities suggested to halt travel.**

Sansa spoke at a high velocity. “There’s some kind of virus going around. They’ve just discovered it. My train was cancelled this morning and now everything is descending into chaos! Have you heard anything about your flight?” 

A few thoughts clicked into Arya’s brain at once: She had heard about some kind of virus from a Braavosi colleague sharing a story she was working on about a week ago, but didn’t think much of it at the time. Also, if travel was being halted now then she could certainly end up without a way home tomorrow. Her other thought was dedicated to the crease in Gendry’s forehead as he listened to her conversation. 

“No, I haven’t heard anything yet. I’ll check on it, though.” She tried to sound reassuring. Sansa hated cancelled plans. “Where are you right now?” 

“I’m in Winterfell. I’m visiting this weekend to help mum plan for _next_ weekend but now I might be stuck here all week. Arya, I heard Bran and Jojen fucking last night, and now I’m going to have to live with them for gods know how long! I need to like…douche my ears. Is that a thing?” 

Arya stifled a laugh. “No, that’s definitely not a thing. But headphones are,” she offered. Gendry chuckled. 

Sansa groaned. “You two stay safe down there. You were just in King’s Landing, Arya, gods, you could be infected.” 

Arya mulled this over. “Yeah I guess you’re right. Don’t worry about me, I’ll keep an eye on my flight and any…abnormal symptoms.” 

“Yes, please text me any updates. Okay, I’m going to go talk to dad about all this. Love ya.” 

“Love you, too, Sans.” She ended the call and Gendry turned his phone toward her again. 

“These are the symptoms. Sansa’s right, you should be careful. You’ve traveled a lot recently…” 

Arya glanced over the fact sheet. It didn’t look like anything to be too concerned about considering she was young and healthy enough to stave off something like this. “If I have this then so do you, just so we’re clear. We’ve shared enough food and air the last 24 hours that I probably would have passed it to you.” 

Gendry shrugged. “Small price to pay for you helping me out this weekend. We’ve already discussed that I basically owe you my life.” 

“Relax, neither of us are dying of this weak-ass virus. I might have to extend my stay, though, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Arya, you could literally move in for all I care.” His expression was nothing but honest.

She blushed a little at the kindness. “We’ll see, I guess.” 

“And let me know if you do feel sick or something.” His finger pointed at her like it was a command. 

“Yes, sir.” She picked up an orange from the fruit bowl and began to peel it. “Look, vitamin C. I’m invincible.” 

“Uh-huh. I’m going to shower,” he announced, getting up to put his coffee cup in the sink. 

Arya spent the time he was away researching what was going on. She went back through her inbox and found a couple press releases from Braavos and King’s Landing regarding the virus that she hadn’t paid attention to before. Her flight was still on, as far as she could tell. 

She tried to go about her day as normal, fielding concerned texts and calls from her family. She had to individually reassure every single Stark that yes, she was safe where she was and no, she hadn’t felt any symptoms and yes, she would try to make it to Winterfell as soon as possible. Jon made her track down a thermometer and send him photographic evidence of her completely normal temperature. 

By the afternoon her upcoming work trips had been cancelled or postponed. It was moot anyway, since it was likely that all Jaqen would want her to write about for the foreseeable future would be this outbreak. She sighed and tidied up the morning’s clutter. 

They decided to spend some time sorting Robert’s belongings into boxes; some would be donated and some distributed to family or friends. They made their best guesses as to what would be most appropriate, choosing to donate most of the clothing and save the more personable items - a pocket watch, a box of cigars, and other nostalgic rich people shit - for someone who might appreciate it. It seemed the only thing stopping Gendry from throwing everything, including the inheritance, into the trash was the hope that some piece of all this - the clothes they would donate or the money he could now touch - would be able to help someone less fortunate, even if he wasn’t sure exactly how to make that happen. 

Gendry was making dinner when she got the email she knew would come. Her flight, like all flights touching down in King’s Landing, was cancelled indefinitely. All flights to Winterfell from the South made a connection there, she knew. She checked the trains, but none of them were running long distance either. She drummed her fingers against her thigh. She was stuck, and that was that. She inhaled the scent of whatever Gendry was cooking, which had no right to smell as good as it did, and didn’t feel as stressed out as she probably should be. 

“Well,” she said, leaning against the counter while Gendry stirred. “I guess this makes us roommates.” She showed him the email and he read attentively. 

“Hmmm. Well, then.” He handed her a bowl of stew and a smug grin. “Welcome home.” 


	2. settle in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all that vast expanse of land and time, Arya looked out and saw not a single soul, save for the man beside her. They could have been the only two people in the world. She turned to find his gaze the color of the sea and thought that might be right after all.
> 
> He didn’t say anything, but she could feel him thinking. It was so apparent on his face that she felt just shy of actually reading his thoughts. If only she could make out the words.  
> \---  
> feat. a garden, a sex dream, a storm, and a castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy belated birthday to Yana, queen of the fandom & my heart. your support on this story and all my fics means everything!! this chap is dedicated to you. 
> 
> hope everyone stuck inside can enjoy!! I have been writing this every day since I last posted and can no longer comprehend the english language so hope it makes sense!!
> 
> here's a playlist for this fic (or just listen to Pink + White by Frank Ocean): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2j5hsktN5HmeA7R44toYwa?si=7zbP4ak0TmWhLTmJogs8EA

Arya slept in, having turned off her alarm the night before. No point in rushing when you have nowhere to go, she figured. She woke after a nonsensical dream that was slipping rapidly from her consciousness, but she could make out the hazy outline of the Stormland’s rolling hills stretching out seemingly forever like they were all there was in the world. Her dream came true when she looked out the window and saw precisely that. 

She checked her phone and saw a text from Gendry. _Wake up I’m making eggs._

Her stomach rumbled and she smiled. She sent back a devil emoji and stretched out under the covers. 

It was Sunday. In her mind, the day stretched out before her endlessly without turning into tomorrow. There was a lot of uncertainty, but she didn’t let her thoughts reach out and touch it. Eggs were certain. She got out of bed. 

She could hear Gendry’s music seeping out of the kitchen. He was plating the food when she rounded the corner, his dark hair still disheveled from sleep. He looked noticeably lighter. 

She thanked him for her rations. “You seem chipper.” 

“I woke up to a day when I don’t have to deal with lawyers turning up as they please for the first time in days. I’m a new man,” he explained. 

She beelined for the coffee. “Ahh, I see.” 

“You should be happy, too. You’re kind of on vacation.” 

Arya balked. “Oh my gods, I’m kind of on vacation.” 

“Mhm. Congratulations.” 

“I feel like I should spike my coffee or something. 

“I mean, we have the power to do that.” 

“Nah, I’ll just feel like shit. Uni was a long time ago. I can’t handle that shit anymore” 

Gendry met her eyes and approximately five memories of day drinking flitted between them. Arya winced, Gendry chuckled. 

“Arya—”

“Okay, fine, I could never handle it,” she admitted, fielding his smug look. 

After breakfast, Arya committed herself to inventory. She opened up all the kitchen cabinets, drawers, as well as the fridge and freezer, and made a list of everything they happened to have. The closest shops were already picked over, apparently. The news all over Westeros was that people were panic-buying and thereby inventing another layer of apocalyptic mayhem. She was content to discover they had enough food stockpiled to last well over a week, maybe two. When Gendry returned from taking inventory of non-food essentials, he reported a decent amount of soaps and cleaning supplies and, thankfully, toilet paper. A few worried thoughts about what could happen if they ran out of supplies filtered through her head, but she did her best to compartmentalize them. 

They also took an entertainment inventory of sorts. A more in depth tour through the library revealed that Robert had shit taste in literature, so no luck there. It felt strange to pilfer through Robert’s things; like touching the exhibits at a museum. They would probably have to box all of it up eventually, but Arya could tell Gendry wasn’t interested in learning about what kind of films or albums his father frequented. Oh well, there was Internet. And each other. 

It was a weird feeling to consciously stay in one place in lieu of cancelled plans. Around the time Gendry was supposed to be driving her to the airport, she had tucked herself into a bay window in the living room and was drowning herself in news updates. It was hard not to since it was all anyone was talking about. She fielded more texts from the family group chat in between articles. Apparently Theon, a notoriously melodramatic texter, was now convinced he was infected and was quarantining with Robb in one of Winterfell’s lesser used wings. The chaos that must be the Stark family at present (and, arguably, at all times) was easy to picture as she stared out the window into the light drizzle. 

She heard the sound of Gendry approaching accompanied by a quiet rustling sound. She turned to see him with a sealed plastic bag in his hand. He held it up to her. 

“What’s that?” she asked.

“A puzzle.” 

“What of?”

“Dunno. There’s no box. Want to find out?”

She chucked. “Sounds like hell. Yes I do.” 

After a couple of hours bent over the dining room table, they had little idea of what they were looking at, but they had put the border together and created some impressionistic renderings of various animals by overlaying pieces that definitely did not fit together. It was only after Gendry pieced together a hilariously tragic self-portrait of Arya that they decided to call it a night. 

Sunday bled into Monday and the crisp, bright morning pierced the windows of her bedroom. A quick peek into her bag reminded her that she was completely out of clean clothes, so she found Gendry coming out of the bathroom and asked to borrow some while she did laundry. She inexplicably found herself inhaling deeply as she pulled his white t-shirt over her head and was rewarded with the familiar and woodsy scent of Gendry. She had always liked that smell; it punctuated memories of her life for the last dozen years or so. The joggers were way too big for her and she had to pull the drawstring tight to keep them up, but they made her feel cozy and insulated as she browsed her emails on the back porch. 

Gendry came out with two steaming mugs of coffee and gave her a very obvious once-over but didn’t say anything about her current fashion predicament. 

“Work beckoning you already?” 

“It’s a pandemic so, journalistically speaking, there is a lot going on,” she explained. “The news never takes a break, unfortunately.”

“What’s your exact job title, again?”

“Jaqen doesn’t really believe in titles. It’s more about the experience you get from the work itself.” 

“That…sounds like bullshit.” 

She stifled her bristling, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe. There definitely isn’t a lot of room for career advancement there. But it _is_ prestigious just by means of being elusive, so that’s a resume-builder, if nothing else.” Talking about it suddenly felt unnatural. “Black and White News is very committed to neutrality. It’s kind of their whole thing. _Our_ whole thing,” she corrected herself, shaking her head. Gendry didn’t say anything, he just sipped his coffee beside her and allowed her to think. 

When the laundry was done she tied up her hair and tucked Gendry’s shirt into a fresh pair of jeans (there was no need to dirty another shirt when the one she had on was perfectly acceptable) and gave herself to the garden. The lack of rain, even for a day, was rare this time of year so it made the most sense to make use of good weather. She found herself on her knees in the grass, which was definitely going to leave a stain, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. She found comfort in the repetitive motion and the satisfying resistance of uprooting weeds. Gendry joined her in the task. He seemed to follow her around a bit, but in a pleasant way. He would float around the house but end up landing only close by. Somewhere in the middle of their pile of garden clippings she could feel a routine forming. 

They worked the first part of the morning in amiable silence. Arya reacquainted herself with the part of Gendry that radiated _presence_ , even if they weren’t in conversation. Something about him allowed her to feel very _aware_ , like her senses were heightened and everything looked sharper. She absentmindedly watched his long fingers separate the earth until he glanced up and caught her mid-stare. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” He smirked at her and nodded toward the unfinished flowerbed before her. She scrunched up her nose, guilty, and looked around at where she was. 

“What are you going to do about all of this, Gendry?” Her eyes roamed the Baratheon grounds and he understood. 

“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” He returned to the task in front of him. “I don’t really know. I never expected this, you know?”

She did know. They had found out who Gendry’s father was within a year of Gendry meeting the Stark’s at school. It was impossible for Ned Stark to ignore the similarities in their appearances the first time Arya and Jon brought Gendry home. Perhaps Ned’s eagerness to accept Gendry into his family was amplified by Robert’s lack of interest in doing so. She never thought it would turn out like this; on their knees on ancestral Baratheon soil, the power of choice laid bare before her best friend.  
“Neither did I…” She watched him tug on an invasive vine. “It’s a lot of money, Gendry.”

“I know that.” He sounded a little exasperated. She backpedalled.

“I know you do, I just mean…you could quit your gig at the shop, pay off school. Or start your own business. Or…donate it, I don’t know.” She chewed her bottom lip. “You have the power to help someone, even if that person is yourself.” 

He was quiet for a moment before he answered. “I’ve been trying not to think about it because it scares the shit out of me,” he admitted. 

“To…have the options? Or the power?” 

“To feel like I deserve those things.” He looked at her then, blue eyes searching her. It nearly froze her. 

“Gendry…do you feel like you do?” she ventured, resisting the impulse to tell him that he was being ridiculous. 

He offered her a small smile. “I’m starting to think so, yes.” 

She leaned forward to put her hand over his in the dirt. “Good, because you do deserve it. You absolutely do.” She stared him down to make sure he wouldn’t brush off her sincerity. He didn’t. He held her gaze like it was a prized and fragile thing. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and she lingered a moment before going back to her side of the ground. He surprised her by speaking again. “What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“You want to stay where you are? At Black and White News?” 

The question caught her off guard. “I…not forever, no.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to be anywhere that doesn’t make you happy.” 

Arya pondered this. “I’m not unhappy.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re very busy.” His voice was gentle as he suggested it, with no trace of bitterness. 

“I like busy,” she countered. 

“I know you do.” He smiled at her easily, stood and stretched, offered her a hand up. She took it and he held onto her for a second before turning toward the house. 

She was a few steps behind him across the grassy lawn and up the back porch into the kitchen. 

He was doing that thing where he called her out on something without actually having to call her out. He’d been doing it for years, and he was almost always correct. 

He was filling two glasses of water when she asked, “Do you have a point?” 

He shrugged again, handed her a glass. “Busy isn’t necessarily happy. That’s all.” 

“I know that.” She felt something defensive rise up in her and then die in knowledge that he was right. 

“So which are you?”

She didn’t have to think about it. “Busy. You?” 

“Me too.” 

She stewed on this as she drank. It was bold of him to accuse her of not being happy, but not surprising. Gendry did this; he challenged her. She was old enough now to gauge when to really listen, rather than fight him as she may have growing up. 

“Do I seem unhappy?”

He shrugged. “You just seem like you’re working really hard, so I worry.”

She scoffed. “Now you sound like Jon.” 

He held up his hands in defense. “Just want to see you doing something you really want to do. And if this is that then I’m glad for you.” 

Want. It wasn’t something that led her these days. She thought of her mother, who openly longed to have all her children near again, and she thought of work, sending her off to chase stories like stray cats on both sides of the narrow sea. She even thought of Ned, who had wanted something much more predictable and traditional than she was interested in giving. “I don’t remember the last time I slowed down enough to really just think about what _I_ want,” she realized aloud. 

“And what do you want?” He pierced her with his unyielding blue stare. 

It was a loaded question. Several things rushed through her mind at once without giving her the chance to settle on just once. She floated on Gendry’s gaze while she sifted through them. 

“You don’t have to answer,” he added. “But you can talk to me about it, if you want.” 

“I know,” she nodded fervently. “Thanks.” He took her empty glass and went to the sink.

She grabbed a kitchen knife and brought it back outside to harvest an arm full of green and yellow and white and pink things from the garden. She found a vase inside and fed the flowers and ferns with fresh water. 

“Wow, for me?” Gendry jested. 

“Yes, apocalypse flowers.” She watched him laugh. There was something different about him now. Not just now in this moment, but since the last time she saw him. She found herself trying to discern what it was in the crinkle of his eyes, or maybe the glisten of water over his knuckles as he washed dishes. 

By Tuesday Arya had taken to wandering around the house somewhat aimlessly. She was exploring the garden shed when she found a large pair of shears that instantly peaked her interest. 

“Hey, Gendry?” She called to him somewhere inside. He poked his head out the back door and she snipped the shears together with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh boy. What do we have here?” 

“Wanna turn your asshole-dad’s bushes into dicks?”

And that’s how Arya ended up on Gendry’s shoulders, shaving the top off of an overgrown shrub. It was a lot more work than she anticipated, so they stopped after one mildly-phallic sculpture was created. She saw a ladder when she put the shears back, but she decided to keep that information to herself, the undersides of her thighs sore from pressing into Gendry’s shoulders. 

The idea of going back to real life when this was all over, whenever that may be, was becoming more estranged. She was doing what work she could remotely, but her job heavily relied on frequent travel, which was presently unavailable without risking health and safety. But here there was Gendry, sturdy as ever, and the promise of waking up each day to do little else but exist beside him. It was a comforting notion. Sure, they were slightly stuck, but she didn’t feel trapped. Their days looked the same - steady, easy - despite the uncertainty in the rest of the world. She had only been in Storm’s End a few days, but it already felt like this was her true life and that whatever she had been doing before had always been temporary. She almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to live the way she had. 

Gendry was a constant. Not just now, but in her life in general. He was always there, faithfully laughing at her dumb jokes, ready for anything. She really couldn’t ask for a better friend. 

Which is why was a little confusing to feel her breath catch when Gendry touched the small of her back while sliding past her in the kitchen. Maybe the isolation was going to her head after all. She did her very best not to think about it. All day. 

Wednesday’s weather allowed Storm’s End to live up to its name. It was pouring from the moment Arya woke up, the dim light refusing to reveal what time it was. She showered and dragged herself downstairs for sustenance, where Gendry was staring, zombie-like, at his laptop. 

The thunder started somewhere between her second cup of coffee and her thirtieth unread email. They glanced out the back window in unison, dark clouds sweeping in from the cliffside. The rain landed violently against the side of the house. She heard Gendry’s laptop shut. 

“Hey, do you want to do no work today and binge watch TV instead?” He raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Fuck yeah I do.” She closed her phone and put it face down on the counter. “Gods, that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” 

Ten minutes later they were sprawled on the couch with the best-looking snacks Arya could find in the pantry. They selected a fantasy show neither of them had gotten around to watching yet and blissfully dissociated for a few episodes, chatting every once in a while about the fight sequences. 

She felt the persistent sensation of being looked-at, but every time she glanced over at Gendry he was intently watching the show. This happened no less than six times, not that she was counting. 

By some force she could not explain, her legs were tossed over Gendry’s lap by episode four - one of his arms draped respectfully over her knees. She could feel herself relax into the couch, anchored by Gendry, the wind whipping the shutters…

She woke feeling dazed, not remembered falling asleep. She stirred, alerting a still-awake Gendry to her presence. The smile he gave her was gut-wrenchingly tender and he rubbed her knee as he gave his attention back to the television. She wondered, completely out of nowhere, if sex was considered a public health violation during a time like this. 

Lightning flashed rapidly outside, followed immediately by house-rattling crash of thunder, and she felt Gendry jump at the same time as her. The hallway light flickered, and then the TV went out, and she heard the electric buzz of the house fade into nothing.

“Oh my gods,” she laughed and sat up, pulling her legs back to her side of the couch. “It really is the apocalypse.” 

As if the gods were responding, another crack of lightning and thunder boomed over the house. 

“Well, fuck. We should probably find some flashlights or something,” he suggested, his face lit by that same dim stormy light that filtered through the windows all day. 

“What time is it even?” She hadn’t looked at a clock in hours. 

“Almost dinner time, feels like.” 

They used the lights of their phones to find one spare flashlight and a half dozen candles. Arya texted her family to let her know what was happening.

**Starklings Group Chat**

Arya: Big storm just knocked the power out here so don’t expect to hear much from 

me. I need to save my phone battery.

Jon: Yikes. Do you guys have enough supplies?? Do you still have heat?

Rickon: The apocalypse is here!!!!!!

Arya: lol rick. We’re completely fine here, no worries. We have everything, including heat

Sansa: Don’t worry Jon! They’re big kids, they know how to keep each other warm x

Arya: what

Sansa: what

Bran: Sansa’s right, Jon.

Jon: what 

Robb: I don’t know what’s happening here but Theon says Sansa’s right. Stay safe,

guys!!

Arya: ok weirdos. turning off my phone now

The house was actually a bit spooky in the dark. In this weather Arya could see how the house was designed to hold its own against a storm without imposing on the untamed beauty of the Stormlands around it. She rifled through the kitchen drawers until she found a matchbox to light some candles. The sun was setting somewhere behind the clouds and Gendry was slicing some fruit and cheese onto a plate, their rations suddenly limited to what they could eat without cooking. The rumbling of thunder was near constant and through the kitchen window lightning was striking over the ocean. 

“I guess I get why they call it ‘Storm’s End’ now,” she said, and Gendry hummed in response. They ate quietly and watched the storm light up fantastically over the bay, not unlike fireworks. There was little to do only by candlelight, but it wasn’t late enough to sleep. So they watched the lightning and spoke aimlessly while the thunder rolled further and further away and the candles burned down. 

They talked until they were yawning, a dozen stories traded into the night’s small hours. Arya regarded him sleepily in the candlelight, his skin alight, feeling a pang of sadness at having missed out on so much of him the last few months. 

They escorted one another upstairs by the light of their single flashlight, saying goodnight from their respective doorways. Arya did feel a bit chilled laying in bed, although it was not particularly cold. Her mind drifted back to Sansa’s insinuating text about keeping warm. She wanted to roll her eyes, but her sister might have been at least half right. She slid her left hand below the hem of her shorts and found she was eager to the touch. Eyes closed, she let her fingers do the work they knew how to do, stifling even the softest of moans lest she be heard. But her thoughts betrayed her with images of strong hands sliding up her thighs, parting them. Maybe she couldn’t allow her mind to wander, then. She tried not to think at all as she worked herself up, but tried as she might she couldn’t push herself over that sweet edge without risking certain thoughts spilling over with her. Frustrated, she rolled over and found fitful sleep. 

She dreamed she was knelt in the garden, planting seeds. As she was burying them with her hands, it began to rain, conveniently watering her host. The rain turned quickly into a downpour, soaking her through, but she didn’t mind. The water landed pleasantly all over her body and turned the ground muddy beneath her. When two strong hands gripped her hips from behind she wasn’t surprised - she had been expecting this. Waiting for it, even. She found her clothes were gone - or maybe she was never wearing them in the first place - and he was just as quickly sliding inside her, her hands gripping the ground for traction as he pressed against that hungry ache between her legs again and again while the rain ran down her thighs. When she moaned the sky flashed as if in response. He didn’t stop until the pleasure made her cry out, a bolt of lightning striking the tower of the castle in front of her eyes. Behind her, Gendry kissed her spine and spilled into her, thunder blooming overhead.

The power was still out when Arya woke in the late morning, although the storm had long passed. Her dream slipped quickly away, but its vague details made her blush in the morning light. 

With absolutely nothing to do she took a more in depth look in the library and found a couple worthwhile history books that had to do with the Stormlands. She browsed through them on the sturdy wooden desk that lived in the middle of the room, looking for anything interesting on the Baratheon family or Storm’s End. 

“Arya!” Gendry’s voice came from somewhere deep in the house. 

“In the library!” she called back to him. 

He appeared in the doorway holding up a ring of keys, smiling. “Look what I found.” 

“What did you find?” 

“Spare keys to the castle grounds. Fancy a walk?” 

It suddenly sounded like the best idea in the world. She answered his grin with her own. “Oh absolutely, I do.” 

She changed into more outdoor-friendly clothes (needing to borrow another of Gendry’s shirts - it was already time for laundry again) and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She met Gendry on the back porch when she was ready to depart. 

The day was brisk and the walk to the castle took about ten minutes. They crossed through the garden and over the grassy expanse that sat between Robert’s house and the castle gate, getting a bit mud-splattered along the way. The exercise made her legs happy after days of little use. 

The gated entrance was through a small iron door that was bracketed into a much larger iron door that must have been opened when the castle was open to tourism. Gendry had to try a few different keys before finding the right one. They passed under the tall, stone archway and through the empty car lot. They were much closer to the cliffside now and the swell and crash of the waves accompanied the gravel crunching underfoot. 

Inside the gate the castle became the entire world. Its stony facade crumbled in places but was mostly well-maintained. The tower shot up an impressive height in front of them and Arya competed against a stream of sunlight to see the top. The manicured gardens sat off to the side and didn’t require a key so they headed in that direction first. Unlike Robert’s personal garden, this one was obviously well-cared for by professionals. It even featured a small hedge maze and Gendry laughed at her when she got needlessly competitive about getting to the center, but she won so he could stick his jests where the sun didn’t shine. 

They found the key to the main museum entrance, which was actually a side door near the gardens. Arya grabbed a pamphlet from the reception area and glanced over the map inside. The problem with the power being out was, of course, that parts of this ancient castle were completely unlit. Arya took the flashlight out of her backpack.

“Good thinking,” remarked Gendry. 

“I’m always prepared,” she replied, a touch smug. 

She led them through a long hallway that eventually wound up a small staircase where natural light spilled through again. They were in the entrance hall, the high ceilings held up by immense stone pillars. Arya gently put her hand on the rock wall, cool to the touch. She looked back and Gendry, who was glancing up at the pillars intently. 

They mostly wandered, rather than checking the map. They found the great hall, set up with a long, singular table and empty silver platters. There was a wing of bedchambers, most of which were locked and they didn’t seem to have the keys. There was also a room that was repurposed into to an armory of sorts, full of glass cases displaying an eclectic assortment of weaponry from various centuries, most notably the ten different war hammers. They had to talk each other down from stealing. Was it stealing if it was arguably a family heirloom? They couldn’t decide. 

When they stumbled upon the throne room she felt Gendry slow a bit beside her. Faded yellow Baratheon banners hung high on the walls, surrounding two thrones on the dais, which was the room’s only true furniture. Arya slowly walked the length of the room. Up close, she could see the ornate metalwork depicting stags on the thrones. She turned to find Gendry in the middle of the room, staring up at the Baratheon sigil, a pensive expression on his face. He turned and met her gaze and smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Arya nodded toward the seat behind her and stepped over the divider rope. “Check it out,” she said, her voice echoing in the empty space. She draped herself dramatically over the throne, attempting her best regal look. 

Gendry chuckled. “Wait, stay just like that.” He pulled out his phone and she held the pose for a photo. “The Lady Stark graces Storm’s End with her presence,” he narrated in a formal voice. She stood and curtsied as sarcastically as she could manage and he snickered when she elbowed him on her way down. 

The entrance to the tower was the last place they found. They glanced up at the winding stairs, and then at each other with the same proposition in their eyes. Arya nodded, and they began their long ascent, pausing periodically to glance into the chambers that were tucked away into this part of the castle and occasionally aiding their path with the flashlight.

By the time they reached the top her heart was beating faster and her calves burned a bit from exertion. Gendry had climbed ahead of her and pushed through the trap door that led to the roof. The wind whipped against her as soon as she was through. She caught her breath and came to stand beside Gendry as he looked out over the fields. Divots in the walling gave way to what must have been an unmatched view of Storm’s End and the Narrow Sea. She could see the city in the distance, and the rolling hills that surrounded. Much closer was the house, which looked impossibly minuscule from this height. Far below the waves rioted against the tower, unyielding in their music even after centuries. 

In all that vast expanse of land and time, Arya looked out and saw not a single soul, save for the man beside her. They could have been the only two people in the world. She turned to find his gaze the color of the sea and thought that might be right after all.

He didn’t say anything, but she could feel him thinking. It was so apparent on his face that she felt just shy of actually reading his thoughts. If only she could make out the words. 

She narrowed her eyes at him in question. 

“It’s just strange,” he responded. 

She nodded slowly. “To technically be royalty?”

“Well yeah,” he casted his gaze off into the distance. “Just to have a history at all, really. Royal or not.” 

She didn’t respond, leaving space for him to continue in her quiet.

“I guess I’ve known all that for years, anyway. But this is the first time it’s all falling into my hands, so to speak.” He looked back at her again to balance his thoughts in her gaze and she stood ready to bear them. “I thought this was a part of me I could ignore because I’d never have to deal with it. But here I am, dealing with it,” he sighed. “And in the middle of a pandemic, nonetheless.” He shook his head like he was in disbelief, but that familiar tinge of mirth was still in his eyes. He laughed softly, patting the stone work with his palm. “It’s just so ridiculous. The world is disintegrating but I’m king of the fucking castle all of a sudden.”

Arya matched his stance, leaning against the parapet, tucking away her flyaway hairs in the wind. “It is strange,” she confirmed, eyes glazing over the empty Stormlands. “The world is nowhere near what I thought it was going to be when I was a kid. I suppose it’s much bigger.” 

“I was actually going to say it was much, much smaller.” His expression was indecipherable. She cocked her head, a question on her face. “You can’t outrun anything,” he explained. 

She knew that one to be true and nodded in understanding. “You’re doing well, Gendry. With all of this, I mean.” 

Gratitude melted over his face. “Thank you for being here, Arya. All of this is…” he gestured vaguely around them, referencing any number of things “…it’s a lot easier with you.” 

His sincerity didn’t surprise her, but the truth of it stilled her. She could have very easily teased him for it, but she braved the more resolute response instead. “It’s easy to be here. With you,” she clarified. “It feels good to slow down and you’re helping a lot with that. So thank you, too.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She returned the embrace immediately, encircling his waist. His closeness sheltered her from the increasingly brisk wind as she let her head rest against his chest, feeling like time might have completely stopped. 

She thought they had reached the appropriate time to pull away, but Gendry made no move to do so. There was no reason to, she supposed. They had nowhere to be but right there. 

He was stroking her hair lightly, she noticed with a jolt to her stomach. She held her breath while he twisted some strands together and tucked them gently behind her ear. It was a dance she’d done before, but never with so much care or attention to detail. Instinctively, she lifted her face from his chest to find him already looking down at her, eyes darker than usual, and never had she wanted to surrender to something more in her life. 

She tilted her face up, some bold part of her leading. He moved toward her just ever so slightly, and suddenly she was blinking water out of her eyes - it was raining again, rather hard. They looked at one another, almost in confusion, and squinted up at the grey skies. The moment, whatever it was, had passed, and she felt Gendry sigh as they loosened their grip on one another. Arya fought off the feeling of disappointment that pooled in her. And then, so quickly she couldn’t react, he pressed his lips firmly to her temple, and just as soon let her go entirely. 

“Come on,” he said. “We should get back.” He started for the ladder that dropped down into the stairwell, but stopped just short of the entrance, bowing slightly to her. “Ladies first.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, _yes, Lord_ Baratheon.”

He scrunched up his face in distaste. “Gross.” 

“Hey, I, for one, think you’d have been a good lord,” she tacked on sincerely.

“Not so well as you’d have made a lady,” he countered, and she scoffed. 

“Are you kidding? I would be shit. I would have gone mad from gender roles and poked out my betrothed eyes with a sewing needle or something.” 

“Hmm, okay, fair. Then you would have made good lord.” 

“I very much agree,” she grinned, comfortable again in their back and forth.

They made their way back through the empty castle, locking up behind themselves, and braving the long walk back through the muddy fields in the rain. They were both thoroughly soaked by the time they got inside and Arya announced she was going to take a nap. She peeled off her wet clothes and put on Gendry’s joggers again, blissfully sliding into the warmth of the bed, not bothering to shut the door. She stared at the drapes and refused to engage with her thoughts until she felt the pull of sleep and brought the blanket up over her head.

The power was on when she woke. The hallway light was on, and she could hear a faint electric hum. She plugged in her dead phone and wandered downstairs, noticing her wet clothes were gone from the floor. She could hear the washer on when she passed through the hallway. Gendry must have come in while she was sleeping to collect her dirty things. The notion made her feel dangerously soft. 

Gendry was baking when she came into the kitchen. She sat down a the counter and he coyly slid her a cookie, which she wasted no time biting into. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” she said with a full mouth. “This is so good. Remind me who taught you to cook again?”

“Literally your mum,” he chuckled. 

“Oh, that’s right,” she recalled. Catelyn Stark taught all her children to cook, and she feared for teenage Gendry’s self-preservation when she discovered he could do little other than toast. 

He pulled out his phone. “I texted Jon and told him the power was back on and he’s texted me five times asking if we’re alright.” 

Arya laughed. “I love my family, and would love to see them anytime, but gods am I glad I am not trapped in a house with them indefinitely right now.” Saying it out loud she couldn’t deny who she was glad to actually be indefinitely trapped with. “I’d probably kill one of them,” she tacked on with a half-hearted laugh. 

Gendry turned away to wash the dishes. “I haven’t seen any of you Starks in a while. It would be good to visit. Once all this clears up, I mean.” 

The idea warmed her. “That would be great. I’m sure Sansa is already organizing the post-quarantine party.” 

It was strange to think of “this” coming to an end, whenever that may be. She thought about the last few months when she hadn’t seen Gendry at all. It suddenly seemed impossible to go that long again. 

Friday was so stormy that Arya thought they might lose power again. She kept her phone plugged in, just in case. To their mutual disgruntlement, they found they could not get away with a third day of not working, especially now that the Internet was back. So they settled for working in one hour intervals, allowing half an hour of strictly not-working in between each, which was mostly sending memes back and forth. 

She was pleased that they could actually have a pleasantly normal day. Well, normal except for the fact that Gendry had touched her at least twice an hour and possibly almost kissed her yesterday. He would lightly tap her thigh to get her attention, or brush her waist as he moved passed her, and once he even kept his arm around her while she played him a video on her phone. Individually these were not obscenely abnormal occurrences, but altogether they challenged her ability to think constructively about anything at all. 

It was immensely distracting. The kind of distracting that raised her pulse and made her blush at inconvenient times. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t lean into the contact or keep herself within arms reach, because that was definitely what she was doing. No use in denying it at this point. 

Most of all she just felt unexpectedly, perhaps ridiculously, happy. And she wasn’t sure what to do about that except to feel it. 

Gendry seemed happy, too. He laughed easily and often when they spoke, which did nothing to quell that growing tender feeling inside her. She marveled at her own ability to spend so much time thinking about one thing, or rather expressly, purposefully, not thinking about it, depending on the hour. 

She took charge of dinner that night, wanting to do something with her hands and also take advantage of the electricity. She settled on handmade pasta, keeping a video tutorial nearby on Gendry’s laptop while she worked the dough. Gendry kept her company on the other side of the counter, periodically topping off her glass of red wine. 

“I feel like I’m watching a cooking show,” he joked as she floured her surface. “Tell me your secrets, chef.” 

She indulged him. “When rolling out your dough, channel your rage about the current state of the world into the rolling pin to ensure a thin layer.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it’s very effective.” She turned some music on Gendry’s laptop, keeping the volume low. 

He was leaning toward her on his forearms, his flannel open over his dark shirt, looking at her with what she could only read as fondness. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Obviously,” she eyed him curiously.

“What really happened with you and Ned?”

The name surprised her. She hadn’t thought about Ned in what felt like a long time, but was realistically only a few days. 

“Nothing big, really,” she shared, thinking through her words as she rolled. "I guess I was just bored. And not in the good like, calming and domestic way. I think I realized I didn’t find him very interesting, and he didn’t seem very interested in me anymore, honestly. We were just in a routine that no longer served us. I think…” she trailed off in thought while she stirred. 

“You think what?” he pressed.

“I’m pretty sure that when you’re with someone you’re supposed to be excited just that they exist and that you get to witness them…be.” She found his eyes again and he was watching her with a careful expression. She looked away and shrugged. “And I didn’t have that with Ned, and I didn’t have the time to be in a relationship that was going nowhere.”

Gendry nodded slowly. “Makes sense.” He didn’t offer any other input. 

Arya prattled on in his silence as she cooked. “Before we broke up I had tickets to see him this past weekend, too. I would have gotten stuck with him in Dorne during all this,” she realized as she said it out loud, inadvertently making a face of distaste. She set down her pin as she pondered this alternate reality. It was far less favorable to the one she was in now, she noted gratefully. 

Gendry was still watching her when she looked up again, a touch of humor in his face. “And I’d be all alone here without even Penrose for company.” 

“That’s even sadder,” she conceded, and he grinned. 

After dinner and a bottle of wine between them, Arya was twenty minutes deep into explaining to an enraptured Gendry the conspiracy theory that the Lannisters were lizard people, which launched a discussion about aliens and had they ever seen one, and if an alien attack happened right now, how would they defend themselves. 

“We’re already in one apocalypse, we probably don’t have to fantasize about another,” Gendry suggested after Arya’s extremely detailed foray into which household items would make the best weapons. 

“I almost keep forgetting about it,” she admitted. 

“About the virus?” 

“Yeah, and like, everything else. In the world.” _Real smooth wine-induced speech,_ she thought. 

“Me too.” He was sitting next to her at the counter, his cheeks flushed with wine and his knee distractingly close to her thigh. One of his hands splayed over the back of her seat; he was undeniably in her space and carefree, too. She let herself enjoy it. The closeness of him. 

“You were right,” she said in a quieter tone. 

“About what?”

“About work. _My_ work,” she specified. “I’m not happy there anymore, or I don’t know if I ever was, I guess. I’m going to start looking for other opportunities, I think I have enough qualifications to find something more…me.” 

“You’ll find something. Anywhere would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Gods, yes. You’re smart, experienced, your ideas are unique, plus you care about stuff, people…you could do well at anything but you’ll find something that’s perfect, I know it. You’re, like, the most beautiful writer in the whole country —” he stopped mid-rant to find her, wide-eyed and blushing. “Wow, I am talking way too much.” 

“No no no, keep complimenting me, it’s great,” she teased and he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve probably had too much to drink.” 

“Or not enough,” she mumbled, and he didn’t seem to hear her. 

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Just…you can do anything you want, Arya. That’s all.” 

She smiled at his sweetness. “Thanks. Really. I…don’t know when I would have arrived at that decision if not for you, if not for being here. During all of this.” There was the proverbial _this_ again.

“It feels like time just stopped, you know?” he said, echoing her sentiments from the last few days exactly. Her heart sped up in response. 

“I know. It’s strange,” she agreed eagerly.

“Yeah. In a good way, though.” She wasn’t sure exactly what they were talking about anymore, but it felt true. She nodded. 

They looked at each other for so long that it ought to feel weird, but it just made her feel seen. It was as if every time she looked into his eyes they were sharing some unspoken language, communicating something she couldn’t form words to just yet. 

She didn’t break her gaze as she spoke. “I think I should get to bed.” She felt like she was saying something else entirely. 

“Yeah, yeah, me too. It’s late.” He stared at her for a second longer before getting up to clear the counter. 

They did the washing up in silence and then Gendry followed her carefully up the stairwell to where it gave way to the hall between their rooms. He stood ever-cautiously in the doorframe to his room looking not at all tired. 

“Goodnight, Arya.” 

“Goodnight, Gendry.” 

Neither of them moved. She felt nailed to her spot. Or to him.

Gendry cracked a grin. “Goodnight,” he said again, full of mirth, still not moving. 

Arya dropped her face into her hands, laughed once at herself, and looked up at him, humbly and restlessly. She hardly deliberated before she reached out to him and he met her halfway, taking her face in his hands, smiling with a gentle disbelief. 

“Oh my gods,” she whispered close to his jaw. _It’s you, isn’t it?_ Maybe it was always going to be him.

He nodded, understanding, curling a finger under her chin. _It’s us._

She kissed him - red wine on their lips, his breath hot against her, backing into Gendry’s room - and it felt like coming home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're looking for more quarantine fics, thestarkbitch and scrubclub both just posted beautiful ones. or, for another trapped together fic, try Marshmallow by forge-heat. 
> 
> I'm watersandwolves on tumblr! hello!!


	3. settle down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a climax, an idea, an engagement, and the world wakes up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is your god given right to read a cathartic amount of domestic fluff during this pandemic so this is me contributing to that. *this chapter is rated E* for effort jk you know what's about to go down.
> 
> here's the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2j5hsktN5HmeA7R44toYwa?si=ES-Y7IX-SnS181eSeO034w

If time had stopped before, now it was moving backwards. 

Backwards through the doorframe of Gendry’s room. Backed up against the dresser. The backs of her knees hitting his bed, back flat over the mattress and his palms. 

If time felt still before, now it was rushing, spiraling in reverse; Gendry’s mouth like a memory flooding her senses. 

A moment ago she was twenty-six and moulding herself to Gendry’s bottom lip in the hall, the world barely existing around them. And then his hands brushed the bare skin of her waist and she was twenty-four, pulling a barely resisting Gendry onto the dance floor at Lommy’s wedding. Her fingers clung to the front of his shirt and he was kissing her like it was a promise and suddenly she was in university again, in the passenger seat of his car as many weekends as she could be. Sleeping on his couch and waking up to coffee and companionship every time. 

The moonlight of the Stormlands landed softly on Arya’s skin as she drew Gendry into the bed, gathering together wherever they may. He was smiling against her mouth, caressing her hip with his thumb, and she was completely undone. For a moment she felt like she never wanted to move again, for the only thing she needed to feel for the rest of her life was Gendry nuzzling her neck, bracketing her body so soundly she swore they’d done this before. But then they seemed to roll their hips at the same time and she changed her mind - there was much more she needed to feel. 

So she moved and he followed, rolling over breathlessly as she straddled him. She pressed into him wherever she could and also where it counted most, cooing at his resulting groan. She drew his face into her hands and tried again and again to evoke that sound as his hands explored under her shirt. 

At the hollow of her throat he seemed to know precisely how to drive her mad, which did not surprise her in the slightest. She was a hot-tempered teen and he had less patience back then. She seemed to float backward through that resolved rage and came out the other side imbued with a youthful giddiness she thought she had forgotten. It was like she had never been touched before, the way his every movement lit her up.

Ridiculously, they were both still clothed. She tugged at his shirt, chuckling a little at how worked up she already was. He helped her slide it over his arms and she quickly divested herself of her own top and raked her nails down his bare chest, mapping out this new territory with her fingers as he kissed along her sternum. 

Gendry’s hands went to her waist band, undoing the button and guiding her to her back once more. He looked to her for permission before ridding her of her jeans, tossing them to the side, and crawled the short space between them. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he went to touch her, pressing his thumb over the fabric of her knickers. She hummed her approval before removing them altogether, leaving her bare. 

She shivered as he slowly ran a knuckle up through her folds, gauging her apparent wetness. He teased her entrance with a finger or two, something akin to a whine escaping her as he slid inside all too easily. 

“Gods, you’re soaked.” She could detect a hint of smugness beneath his blatant arousal. He bent over to kiss her again, holding the back of her neck with his free hand. 

“What did you expect?” she teased, trying not to gasp when she felt his teeth gently pull on her ear. 

His fingers curled inside her and she moaned. “Just thought I might have to work harder for it,” his laughter was low and fond and spread through her like wine. 

The sight of him over her, warm and light and _Gendry_ nearly made her cry or laugh or explode, she wasn’t sure. “You still have that option,” she offered, trying to keep her voice level. 

“Oh, I know.” He smiled, kissed her, and took his efforts south, his tongue rolling over her nipple on his way down. His nose trailed over her stomach and he bit playfully at the flesh of her hip, causing her to squirm. 

He pulled her clit into his mouth and she was anchored to him in all the best ways. Aryawatched him through heavy lids, his arms gently rooting her to the spot, his tongue exploring her with an eagerness that made her wonder if he had thought about this before. She suddenly hoped so. 

She could feel him getting lost in her down there as his ministrations pulled her into a hazy, undulating delirium she just might want to float in forever. But her desire for what else he could give her cut through her senses like a knife. She reached down and brought him up to her mouth, his fingers sliding out of her, and she moaned when she briefly tasted herself on his lips.

“You okay?” He found her eyes again. 

She tugged at his trousers. “Very. Take those off,” she commanded, completely on a one-way mission. 

He did as he was bid, enthused to find her lips again after, amused by the way she confidently rolled him onto his back and saddled him once more. Once, years and years ago, she had expertly wrestled him to the ground despite him being twice her size. This felt much more effortless but came just as naturally. 

She took his length into her hand, squeezing experimentally and smiling when he gasped and clutched at her waist. 

She dragged the tip of his cock over her clit and they shuddered simultaneously, followed by a bemused giggle that ruptured out of some apparently unearthed part of her. 

Gendry sat up a bit to kiss her jaw and run his thumb over her nipple. “I don’t have any condoms here,” he said apologetically. 

She just shook her head. “I have the coil, it’s fine.” 

He nodded profusely and bit her bottom lip, growing harder in her hand.

They slowed together as she braced herself against him. She knew what came next had no point of return. It seemed Gendry could sense this, too, by his tightening grip on her. 

She positioned him at her entrance, keeping her eyes on his. She inhaled and then sighed as she sank down onto him, steadying herself on his shoulders as she adjusted to the stretch of him. 

He cursed when she had taken him all the way. “Come here,” he pleaded, reaching up to take her face in his hands. His kiss was infused with somehow even more desperation as he began moving inside her and they found a rhythm. 

If it felt like he was everywhere it’s because he was. He was between her fingers and her thighs and he was inexplicably in her life. He was within her and time reeled in reverse until she could hardly recall her own name. She felt _joined_ with him like some archaic, cosmic force was careening her toward climax or something else of equal transcendence, she didn’t care much which. It all felt brand new and ancient, like she had done this thousands of times and couldn’t remember. Maybe it was always going to end up like this, she pondered as he thrust up inside her.

She kept him sheathed inside her as she rocked against him. He matched her movements as his hands roamed her body like he was trying to touch all of her at once. He was hitting her deepest point, something like determination on his face as she lost control of whatever sounds she was making. There was only the hot expanse of his flesh inside her and around her as she snapped sweetly over the edge, a slew of expletives entwined with his name raining down on him. He followed her - as always - just a half moment later, unbearably hard inside her before his release. 

Her hands cupped his jaw as he came down. When he opened his eyes to hers she wassuddenly a child and he was still a stranger - the quiet black-haired boy who had just moved North. She had never met him, but right away something about him felt familiar and unknown all at once. 

Between her hands, Gendry looked at her for a moment like he didn’t know her either, but then he cracked a shy smile and she knew him. She knew him like she had never known another person. 

His mouth was tender but still urgent against hers as they held each other in place, breaths still heavy. Arya gently slid off of his lap to lay on her side facing him, conscious of the way their mess dripped steadily onto her inner thighs. 

He played with her fingers as she traced an absentminded pattern into his shoulder with her other hand. She felt so still, a contrast to their frenzied motions from a moment ago. It was a good stillness; calm but not stagnant. Water after a storm, clear as day. 

“Huh.” It was her only commentary. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, his thumb tracing her knuckles. Peaceful. 

“Should we talk about it?” she ventured, not because she thought they weren’t on the same page, but because she wanted to make space for any unmade declarations. 

“We can if you want. But it can wait until tomorrow if you’re tired,” he suggested, warmth in his tone. 

She nodded. “We have time.” It felt truer than ever. 

“Plenty of it, it seems.” 

She hummed contentedly as he threaded a whole hand into her hair, closing her eyes as her breath slowed and he gently massaged her scalp. She cracked open one eye after a bit to find him watching her, a bashful blush creeping onto his face under her met gaze. 

“What’s that look for?” she teased. 

“Nothing, nothing.” He ran a hand down his face as if he could wipe off his grin. He couldn’t. He laid on his back and she pursued him, propping herself up on his chest. “Just happy.” 

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Me too.” 

They talked aimlessly for a bit, eventually getting up just enough to clean off and find Arya something to sleep in. She drifted off easily under the comforting weight of Gendry’s palm on her ribcage. 

She woke slowly to the bright morning light. She stirred and felt Gendry reflexively adjust beside her, planting a lazy kiss on her shoulder. 

“Morning,” she whispered. 

“G’morning,” came his groggy voice. “How’d you sleep?”

“Heavily. I think you really knocked me out last night.”

He chuckled mischievously, pulling her close. 

“How did you sleep?” 

He rubbed his eyes. Morning looked good on him, she decided. 

“I dreamt you were throwing crabapples at me,” he shared. 

“What?”

“Really hurt, actually,” he accused. 

“You probably deserved it,” she countered, poking him. 

“Probably.” He slotted an arm between the bed and her neck. “What should we do today?” 

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” she offered suggestively, her fingers trailing down his abdomen. 

He hitched her leg around his waist and rolled on top of her, his weight pleasantly bearing down on her hips. “Do tell.”

She melded her mouth to his, inviting him to lose himself inside her again. 

After, they relaxed into the quiet. Arya watched the sun beams fall over the far side of the bedroom. 

“This house is stupid big. You and I could quarantine right here in this bed and be just fine,” she laughed. 

Gendry seemed to agree, kissing her face. “It’s definitely much too big for the two of us. Not that I’m complaining at the moment.” 

His words stuck to her, something forming in the horizon of her mind. 

“I think I have an idea.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. I need to use your computer.” She crawled over him and snagged his jumper from the floor, haphazardly tossing it over herself. He was watching her from the bed, amusement apparent on his face. “Well, come on,” she coaxed, motioning toward the door. She waited until she saw his feet touch the floor before heading downstairs. Was he always this slow? 

A half hour later she was knee-deep in Baratheon-studded paperwork and Gendry was sliding a cup of coffee to her across the countertop. 

“I’m dying to hear what you’ve been thinking so hard about,” he prompted, and she looked up from the screen. 

“I think I’m onto something here, but before I look further - how would you feel about donating this house?” 

“I would feel very good about it,” he said quickly, something like relief on his face. “Donating it to who, exactly?” 

She smiled at his immediate answer. “I figured you’d be down. The ‘who’ is the part I haven’t figured out yet, I just wanted to see what it would look like legally first, since you’re already in the throes of Robert’s estate. I know I kind of mentioned this before but _now_ …” She trailed off without finishing the thought. _Now I might want to stay in Storm’s End with you._ She swung the laptop around so he could see her quick search of local charities. “There’s a lot of possibilities. There’s loads of people in need right here of course.” She could feel herself talking faster, the ideas in her head clicking into place more quickly than she could put words to them. “You’d already be here to oversee everything, Renly and Stannis would be dicks to put up a fight, not to mention stupid because their family name could use some positive press anyway,” she added offhandedly. “Not to mention the funds the Baratheon family could contribute, obviously. Not pushing you into anything, of course, I just think…” she trailed off when she found him staring at her the same way he had that morning and last night. The open tenderness there nearly surprised her for a moment, like in her fevered research she had forgotten that they already moved past concealing such looks. “What is it? What do you think?” She was suddenly self-conscious that she could have overstepped. 

Gendry came around the counter and wrapped his arms around her middle. “I think it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He kissed her crown and her stomach fluttered. “I could do some restoration work. And sign off on all the paperwork, of course.” 

“I can write the proposals,” she suggested, and his face was almost wistful. “What?” 

He shook his head. “Just…feeling entirely unsure of what I would do without you.” 

She blushed. “Don’t be daft. You could do it all on your own, if you wanted.” 

“It’s much better with you, though, isn’t it? You’re a natural.” 

She gave him a sly grin. “Can’t argue with you there.” 

Gendry assembled some breakfast while they combed through Storm’s End’s charities. There were a few shelters that looked promising as they’d been impacted by recent budget cuts. Not to mention a pandemic. Robert’s house could house a few dozen with some simple restructuring. It was all very promising in a way that filled her with fire. She would not easily burn out. 

Gendry seemed to take solace in this new possibility. Instead of having to sort the estate for no reason other than obligation, there was now a larger plan at stake. One that involved more than just himself, which was probably precisely what made him feel better about all of it. Arya had felt a comfortable routine form days ago. Now, she stared at Gendry’s hair, tousled from her running her fingers through it this morning, and she started to see her life click into place. 

It was mid-afternoon when Arya dragged a large blanket into the yard, provoked outdoors by the rare cloudless day. Gendry joined her, of course, stretching out comfortably beside her in the mild air. He ran his fingers softly up and down her leg. He was very good at making her forget how to breath. 

“So,” he began, gentle. “Should we talk about it?” 

She nodded her encouragement. “I mean, I think we both… _know_ how we feel. I think you feel the same as me?” 

He hummed in agreement despite her not yet actually explaining. 

She continued earnestly. “I’m not sure if I can even describe what I’m feeling for you. But I do know that I’m feeling a lot of it,” she chuckled. 

“When did it start?” he prompted. 

“It just feels different now. Since I got here.” She watched a flock of birds fly overhead. “Although, it’s suddenly feeling very obvious to me that this was inevitable, in a sense.” 

Gendry didn’t say anything, but nodded in understanding. 

“Was it the same for you?” she probed. 

He made a face. “I…I might have thought about it before now, but it didn’t feel like a possibility until you came here and told me you were single.” 

“ _Might have_ thought about it?” She pressed him, curiosity quickening her heart. 

He rolled his eyes, blushing. “Yes, I _might_ have.” 

She was _so_ getting to the bottom of this. “Wait,” she crawled into his lap and put on her most doting expression. “Tell me more, please.” 

The sound he made was a mix between a groan and a laugh. “I know what you’re doing.” 

“What am I doing?” she said innocently.

“You’re trying to be cute to get information out of me,” he accused. 

“First of all, I’m not ‘trying,’ and second of all, it’s working.” 

“Is it?” 

“Look, I’m doing this the nice way. I could go the aggressive route instead and just tackle you until you tell me.” 

“That actually sounds more fun.” He swiftly pushed her from his lap and pinned her on her back. “Let’s do it that way.” 

She chuckled in spite of herself as he kissed under her ear. “Gendry.” 

He stopped what he was doing to find her steely eyes. “Fine. It was worth a shot.” He took a breath but didn’t move from above her as he spoke. “Yes, I’ve thought about it before.” 

“About fucking me?” she teased. 

“Well, sure. Yes, actually.” He ground himself between her legs as if to prove it. “I just…thought about being with you, the person who is my best friend and also happens to be unfairly beautiful and smart and who actually makes me very happy, thanks very much.” He shrugged. “Felt natural to think about, honestly.” 

Her heart sputtered. She kissed him while she searched for words. “Gendry…how long?”

He sighed and rolled onto the blanket next to her so they were both looking up at the sky. “It hasn’t been all the time, just…sometimes. Since you were about nineteen and I was twenty-three-ish.”

“Gendry, that’s a really fucking long time.” 

“I am quite aware.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He rolled his eyes. “As if it were that simple. You were dating other people. Sometimes I was, too. We haven’t lived in the same place in a while. Might I remind you that before last week I hadn’t seen you in months?” 

She grimaced. “You’re right.” 

He shrugged. “I didn’t see this as inevitable. I just saw it as making sense.” 

“This does makes sense,” she agreed, resolve settling firmly inside her. “You’re just… exactly right. Right for me and just right about everything. I weirdly can’t picture my life without you in it. Well, I guess that’s not so weird because you’ve already been in most of it.” They both laughed at that. “But when I think about the future, well, there you are, too. Present as ever.” 

He took her hand. “I like the sound of being in your future.” 

“I’m kind of counting on it, at this point.” She nudged him playfully and he turned toward her, glowing a bit in the afternoon sun. 

His hand stroked her cheek. “I’ll be there. For as long as you’ll have me.” 

She beamed at him and tossed her leg over his waist, ensnaring him with a kiss. “Strap in, dear, it’s a long ride.”

\--

The days passed differently now that they were measured by her changing relationship with Gendry rather than merely waiting stagnantly each day for the world to begin turning again. She supposed they were violating social distancing regulations even more now than before. Not that it had counted before because they were living in the same house anyway, but Gendry’s tongue in her mouth really brought new meaning to “shared space.” 

Arya was never one to half-ass anything, though, which is how they ended up seducing one another over most surfaces of the estate. It mostly happened in the kitchen because that’s where they usually happened to be, but with common occurrences on the couch and, once, against the railing of the back porch. There was nothing better to do - both in that there was literally not much else to pass the time and also, even if there was, she would still choose to do exactly this. 

They kept sleeping in Gendry’s room, which Arya preferred since his room was a bit more lived-in and also smelled like him. This new development only further obscured whatever life she had been living up to this point. She could barely recall the time before she would wake up to Gendry’s arm around her and the wild sort of quiet of Storm’s End. She could get used to it. She was already used to it. 

Arya filled her days easily with work and food and reading and, of course, committing herself to learning Gendry in the last few ways she had yet to. She spoke to friends in Braavos and hinted that she may not be returning in a work capacity. She got in touch with a local domestic violence shelter about their needs and a potential donation. She called her father with questions about Robert, which Gendry was grateful as ever for. She even FaceTimed once with Rickon, who was bored enough to talk to her for longer than five minutes. 

She kept her budding relationship with Gendry private, wanting to revel in their own little world a bit longer. She felt thoroughly wrapped up in it as he smiled warmly at her while putting away their delivered groceries. 

“Alright?” he asked.

“Is it strange to feel lucky right now? Despite everything?” 

“Not at all. We’re quite lucky in many ways.” 

She returned his smile and her phone buzzed. 

**_Incoming FaceTime from Theon Greyjoy._**

She accepted the call. At first the screen was dark. And then red hues gave way to flashes of light as Theon pulled his hand of the front-facing camera and wiggled his fingers at her in what can only be described as a violent fashion. 

“Uh, what’s up? What’s this?” She wiggled her fingers back at him. Maybe he did have the virus and was delirious. 

“What do you think it is?” He spoke to her like she was stupid. “We’re engaged, bitch!” 

“ _What?_ ” She dropped her toast. “Wait, where’s the ring? Where’s Robb?” She wished she could reach through the phone and adjust the camera view to look around instead of just watching Theon preening at himself like an Instagram model. 

“Obviously there’s no ring because the _stores_ are _closed_ , dumbass.” Gendry came to her side to witness all this for himself. “Gendry, baby! Congratulate me.”

“Congratulations,” he complied. It sounded like a question. “What are you—”

“Theon?” She heard Robb’s voice adjacent, and then saw her eldest brother come into view. “Who are you — Arya!” He shoved his fiancé. “Are you telling my sister without me? You dick.” 

“You’re marrying this dick.” 

“Okay!” Arya interrupted before that could unfold any further. “Hi Robb.” 

“Hi Arya, hi Gendry. I’m engaged. But you already knew that.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “How did it happen? Who proposed?” 

“Long story but basically we’ve been stuck together for over a week now and this one felt so romanced by my efforts to care for him that he proposed last night.” 

Arya felt several pieces click into place. “Wait, Theon, are you even sick?” 

“Eh, I’ve felt fine for days. Don’t tell Cat. I simply adore the sympathy.” 

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Gendry shake his head. 

“We’ll tell you the whole story another time,” Robb conceded. “You’ve got to come up as soon as you can, both of you. Sansa’s already planning the engagement party. And the wedding, probably.” 

“I sure am!” Her sister’s voice sounded from somewhere beyond Theon’s phone, and then her view was disrupted as Sansa snatched it away from Theon. “It’s about to be lit just as soon as we’re allowed to be lit again.” She tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder and was silent for a moment. And then, “Have you two fucked yet?” 

“ _What?_ ” Arya and Gendry (and Robb) said simultaneously. 

“Ah,” she nodded knowingly. “You have.” 

“I knew it!” Theon called out. 

Arya found herself stunned into silence, but more impressed than mortified. She felt Gendry squeeze her knee out of frame. 

“Does this mean I win the bet?” Theon asked.

That broke Gendry out of whatever daze he was in. “What bet?” 

“Yes, what bet?” Arya echoed. 

Sansa scrunched up her face. “What was that, Arya? Sorry, you froze. Can’t hear you.” 

“You can hear her fine, asshole.” Robb sounded appropriately irritated and Sansa’s face donned a look of betrayal. 

“I want to hear about this bet,” Arya insisted, trying to listen to the muffled protests of Theon somewhere off screen. 

Sansa had the decency to look mildly apologetic. “I’ll tell you once you’re both in Winterfell for the engagement party-slash-family reunion of the century. Actually, I’ll make Jon tell you. He’ll hate that.” She smiled deviously. 

Arya opened her mouth to protest but Robb grabbed the phone away from the chaos, interrupting Sansa. “Let’s leave her alone and also leave me out of this, hmm?” He turned back to the camera. “Good to see you, Gendry. Talk to you later, Arya. Love you.” 

“Love you, too,” she grumbled. 

“Love you!” She heard Sansa and Theon’s voices echo as the call swiftly ended from the other end. 

Arya sat quietly processing the chaos that could only be stirred up by her loving but boisterous family. 

“So much just happened,” Gendry laughed, going to pour himself more coffee. 

“Gendry…” she trailed off. 

“Yes?”

“Am I the only one who didn’t see _this_ —” she gestured between them, “coming? For apparently a long time?” She felt weirdly self-conscious as someone who typically prided herself on being astute. 

Gendry wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I never said I saw it coming, I just wanted it to come.” He kissed the top of her head. “Very much,” he added. 

His words softened her worry and coaxed a smug grin to the surface. She absentmindedly dug her fingers into his hip bones. “How much?” 

He let out a low chuckle. One of his hands twisted into her hair and tugged suggestively. “How about I show you?”

She smiled and nodded, warmth spreading up her legs, yelping when he playfully picked her up and made toward the stairs. She let him show her, soft and intentional, with her head on his pillow. And then she let him show her again, rough and playful, bent over the foot of the bed. 

\--

The lockdown ended as abruptly as it started. And just like the first round of news that came, it was Sansa who told her that restrictions were being eased. Arya was a journalist by trade so she was used to be up to date on the latest facts, but her sister had an uncanny knack of knowing the news before it even hit the papers. 

Major Westerosi cities were able to contain and monitor the spread of the virus thanks to Essosi-developed testing and quickness to shut down transit. Select travel would reopen in a few days, which suddenly presented Arya with the opportunity to leave to her King’s Landing flat after a fortnight of sheltering in Storm’s End. 

The option felt strange, as if some magic peeled out of a fantasy story and manifested in real life. Beautiful and surprising and ever so out of place. But maybe this new world she was living in had a little magic in it. It wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

The world would never be the same, but she didn’t want it to be. She wouldn’t trade what she had now - clarity, a stronger sense of purpose, and Gendry - for the semblance of normalcy she had before. She didn’t want that normal. It no longer served her. Life, home - these things could change and evolve just as anything else. Maybe more than other things could. That much was clear now. 

Gendry was lounging on the couch with his laptop, reading glasses on, the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw, looking entirely too inviting. She slid in next to him, tucking herself under his legs. 

“Did you hear what Sansa said on the phone?” 

“I did. Good news, yeah?” 

“Mmm.” 

It was silent for a few minutes. She felt strangely melancholy at eventually having to leave, even though it was a good thing that it would soon be safe to.

She decided to share as much. “I almost wish I didn’t have to go.” 

“I would like it if you didn’t leave my side ever again, but that’s not very realistic. Or healthy,” he said kindly. 

“No, but I understand.” she laughed. “I would like that, too. Which is why I was _thinking_ …” she trailed off briefly and squeezed his hand, “Storm’s End is a nice place to live. I’ve liked living here for the past couple of weeks, even though I guess I didn’t see the city at all. But if we’re really going to do this then it makes sense to be here on a more permanent basis.” 

“‘This’ being the house stuff? Or _this_?” He ran his thumb over the palm of her hand. “I’m fine with either, just wondering.” 

She smiled. “Both. Definitely both. Is that alright?” 

He scoffed and kissed her, pushing his laptop out of the way so he could reach her. “It’s more than alright.” His face was bright, something smoldering in his eyes. 

“I’ll start looking for flats, then.” She could hear the excitement in her own voice and she had not a care to subdue it. 

“I guess I’m one step ahead of you.” He put the laptop on her knees. His web browser was already open to several rental listings. “Figured I can’t live here much longer if we’re giving it away.” 

She clicked through the tabs, multiple flats calling out to her. “This one comes with a washer, we should bookmark this. Oh, and this one’s not too far from here. It’d be an easy drive if we need to oversee things onsite.” 

He nodded. “Look at this one, it made me think of you.” He clicked to a different screen. “Look at the garden.” 

“Oh, fuck yes.” 

They scoured over the listings for a bit, remarking on the up and downsides to each. 

“Really I’ll be happy so long as the kitchen is nice,” Arya shrugged. 

“These walls are kind of ugly though.” He pointed to the sad, putrid sort of yellow. 

“We could paint them,” she suggested. 

He hummed in agreement. “We should see if we can visit. Take a look in person and see if it feels right.” 

His suggestion startled her and she stared at him for a moment as she processed why. 

He must have noticed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she quickly remedied. “It’s just…I just realized we’ve been talking as if we’d be living together. Like in the same flat.” 

“Huh,” he slowed, clearly reflecting. “Guess we have.” 

She held his gaze silently for a few moments, strangely comfortable. 

He pressed on with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Is that alright?”

There was a larger question behind his words, highly present without needing to be expressed. 

Arya felt quite soft and whole and somehow ready. “It’s more than alright,” she echoed, her lips mirroring his as they split into a grin. She settled against his chest and effortlessly called it home. 

\--

The train station was bright, almost ethereal. It was by no means crowded, but a significant number of people milled through and their very presence felt cathartic.

Arya walked leisurely beside Gendry as they took in the surroundings. He had driven her in with time to spare before her train departed. 

“Signs of life,” he remarked.

“Signs of survival,” she amended. She hadn’t seen another person until they drove into town. She was surprised that something so mundane seemed so extraordinary to her, but she supposed it would be a while before she could take anything for granted again. 

It felt a little strange to be leaving Storm’s End, even if it was strictly temporary. She was already longing to return to the rolling green hills and to Gendry. Despite this, she was looking forward to getting back to her King’s Landing flat so she could pack it up and also wear something other than the same four outfits over and over again. 

Gendry was pensive next to her as they sat in the metal chairs waiting for her train to roll in. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just reckon I’ll be missing you,” he said under his furrowed brow. 

“It’s only six days,” she reminded him. “And then I’ll see you in King’s Landing and we’ll fly to Winterfell.” 

“You’re right.” He pressed his lips to her temple and rested his arm comfortably around her shoulder. “Jon’s going to be cross with me.” 

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not allowed to be anything but happy for us. I’ll set Nymeria on him if he as much as pouts.” 

“But he’s always pouting,” Gendry countered. 

“Resting emo face,” she concurred. “Still, no one’s going to give you a hard time. We’re adults. And they’re just going to be relieved that we’re healthy and all in one place.” The notion warmed her as she said it. 

Her train eventually tugged into the station and a voice came through the intercom asking its passengers to board. She stood to gather her things. 

“Have everything?” He patted her bag needlessly. 

“Everything but you,” she smiled. 

He chuckled, hooking a finger under her chin. “You do have me.” 

“I know.” She tilted her face up at him and located the mirth in his eyes. There was something else there, too. She watched him inhale sharply. 

“I love you.” His voice was soft and turned her heart into a hammer. 

A small noise of enthusiasm escaped her as she wrapped tighter around him. “I love you, too. 

“I know. Just wanted to say it out loud.” His mouth felt content on hers. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” She squeezed him tight enough to make him laugh. “I’ll call you from King’s Landing. And probably from the train, too.” 

“See you soon, love,” he promised. 

“You will.” She seared him with a kiss before slipping through the turnstiles and winding her way to her platform. She turned around just to look at him again, arms crossed sturdily, grinning at her. She could look at him like that forever, but he nodded once at her, encouraging her departure. She heeded with a smirk. 

Arya slid into the long train that stretched out past the cover of the station into the sun. She curled into the window and watched restlessly as they started moving, collecting speed, thrumming onward through the blue-green Stormlands. Time moved forward again, its hands gripping the world like long-lost lover. She smiled to herself as the train pulled her out, out into the dazzling world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for all your support on this story! it really flew out of me because I love it so much. lots of other quarantine fics have been published since I posted the last chapter, so let me know in the comment or on tumblr if you want recs. I'm @watersandwolves over there. also, I have sequel ideas for this!!! stay tuned. 
> 
> the only fantasy here is that the pandemic is over lol rip but if you take one thing away from this story it's: imagine a better world and build toward it however you can! 
> 
> okay, time to finish switch. much love x

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy we're all trapped now, huh. Wash your hands everyone! 
> 
> Also, I promise I'm still working on switch - thank you for your patience and for reading this in the mean time! I have the rest of this plotted out but not yet fully written but expect more soon, especially with the great excuse I have to stay in my house. I'm watersandwolves on tumblr!


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